paroles de chanson Return of the B-Girl - Kool Keith , T-Love
Featuring
Kool
Keith
[Kool
Keith]
Yeah
whassup
T
Love
A
lot
of
brothers
be
freestylin
(right)
Blowin
smoke
at
your
clothes
Girls
be
out
there
with
weaves
with
Glue
in
they
scalps
tryin
to
get
loose
But
it's
time
to
drop
gooses!
(true
dat)
YouknowhatI'msayin?
"T
hit
it
off!"
[T
Love]
There's
a
lot
of
girls
rhymin
on
the
mic
with
no
direction
Don't
know
why
they
flexin
forgot
rules
and
lessons
The
essence:
beats
and
rhymes
and
shit
I'm
about
to
show
these
bitches
that
I'll
die
for
this
With
more
than
the
skills
to
pay
the
bills
at?,
I
rock
it
Nobody
knows
my
name,
at
least
I'm
hittin
pocket
It's
been
a
while.
"been-been-a,
been-a,
been
a
long
time"
->
Ra
Yeah,
it's
been
a
long
time
since
B-Girls
got
down
Now
I
be,
mannered
like
Janet,
Jack-me
when
I'm
not
lookin
Cause
iffin
I'm
lookin,
then
you
get
YO'
shit
tooken
A
hundred
degrees
of
heat,
under
emcees
who
sleep-walkin
In
some
bibles
since
the
age
of
three
See
I
be
a
rap
editor,
rhymer
et
cetera
To
the
letter
or
competitor,
not
in
it
for
the
cheddar
A
calligraphist,
envisionist
Yeah
it's
been
a
long
time
but
I'm
back
to
make
a
diff'
Chorus:
Kool
Keith
That
girl
is
wack.
That
kid
is
wack.
That
producer's
wack.
Your
whole
family's
wack.
"So
wack
that
it's
bound
to
show"
[Kool
Keith]
I'm
systematic,
graphic,
outspoken,
master
past
a
certain
MC
Abilities
of
enemies,
construct
nine
million
quitrillion
Makes
a
brother
brilliant,
strong
like
Einstein
I
find
the
underlying,
words
with
verbs
herb
Make
me
famous
when
I
pull
up
on
your
anus
It's
disaster
for
the
tri-state
actor,
in
a
circle
like
Urkel
Yo
T-Love,
these
assholes
are
dirt
specks
on
my
rugs
Smokin
blunts
with
stomach
pumps
Pick
up
the
mic,
your
crew'll
only
rhyme
once
For
the
budget,
70,
000
Monopoly
money
With
a
wack
producer,
usin
Sonny
Spitz
You
on
that
"Keep
it
Real"
list,
you're
broke
You're
name
is
Captain
Provoke,
better
know
you
ain't
Never
eatin
Tony
Rhomes,
files
of
culture
I'm
still
dope
Even
not
with
Ultra
--
back
you
saved
this
from
Casio
samples
I'm
raw
like
green
apples
Fly
smooth,
I
ain't
got
nuttin
to
prove
Your
album
has
been
out
for
forever
You
didn't
even
go
plether
Plastic
was
your
quota,
Mr.
Spiritual
Philosopher
Prepare
for
your
release
for
foul
speech
You
weak,
like
Cream
of
Wheat
I
step
to
you
and
blow
out
assholes
like
Miami
Heat
Yo,
take
off
those
boots,
it's
ninety-five
degrees
out
here
It's
fuckin
hot
"So
wack
that
it's
bound
to
show"
Chorus
[T-Love]
Return
of
the
B-Girl
promises
Nothing
less,
than
spectacular,
with
vernacular
Peep
how
T
mackin
the
verb
Like
hoes
strollin,
on
Pharoah,
I'm
givin
you
the
narrow
The
L-Down,
I
mean
the
skinny,
this
Pickaninny
Went
to
rock
battle,
while
she
rides
up
to
Denny's
Nah
I
ain't
really
tryin
to
diss
nobody
But
old
school
B-Girls
swore
in
the
Goddess
In
studded
Gazelles,
they
did
windmills
West
had
on
the
Pumas,
East
had
on
the
Shells
Rock
the
Bells
sell
prevailed
by
L's
lips
Serious
about
the
type
of
styles
we
flipped
We
get
closer
to
millenium,
B-Girls
dwindlin
You
don't
have
to
stress
because
"I'm,
comin!"
It's
been
a
long
time,
I
shouldn't
have
left
you
Sorry
for
the
wack
shit
you
slept
through
Chorus
2X
[Kool
Keith]
Yeah,
it's
return
of
the
B-Girl
T-Love
in
the
house
for
the
nine-seven
Pullin
all,
glue
off
wigs
That's
right,
damagin
skulls
That's
right
it's
all
beauty
parlor
skills
That's
right
Touchin
up
on
the
weaves
and
cuttin
ends
off
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